Remembrance
by Bloody Sword Alchemist
Summary: "...Himura Tomoe...the wife I killed with my own hands..." Multi-part novelization of the 'Remembrance' chapters of the manga. Rated M for assassination violence. Tragedy/Romance, for obvious reasons. Please read, review. Thanks!
1. Part 1 Hitokiri

**A/N: **This is a rough novelization of the 'Remembrance' section of the manga, where Kenshin reveals his past as a Hitokiri and such. WARNING: The dialogue is taken from an unofficial translation, so if there are any huge differences from the version you are familiar with, that would be why. I don't own this section of the manga, so I had to use a fan-translated version. I apologize, but it's all I had available to me. Also, I modified some of the dialogue at times (such as if the translation made little sense), though not too often.

If I got any names wrong, I apologize, I'm not as familiar with the characters in this section. I added a couple of flashback-like scenes of my own design, so I hope those aren't too out of character for those involved. Also, I'm not terribly familiar with terminology, such as the names of articles of clothing, or items, or even weapons. So, if I have left out a name where there should be one, or used the wrong name, please let me know and I'll change it in later chapters.

Each chapter of this story is based on the corresponding chapter in the manga, so my estimate is that there will be around fourteen chapters, unless I add one at the end. I don't know how quickly the chapters will be written/uploaded, because I'm busy with the end of school year rush, and I don't have a lot of time for FanFiction. But I'll do my best.

By the way, anything that's _"centered and in quotes and italics"_ is Kenshin actually speaking. Like, when he's talking to everyone, that's what he's saying. They're separate from the flashback sequence that makes up the majority of these pieces. I just thought I'd let you all know, in case it wasn't clear.

Sorry this author's note is so long, there were just a few things I wanted to clarify. Like the fact that Kenshin won't be referred to as 'Kenshin' until his name is revealed in the flashback, if then, simply because I view 'Kenshin' and 'Battosai' as very different people. I get caught up in the little things, and sometimes, like with this piece, it makes it harder to write. But anyway. I think I'm done now.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Rurouni Kenshin, the characters, the plot, etc, etc.

Please enjoy!

* * *

"_There's something I want to tell you all…about this battle, from the beginning._

_This morning, on my way home, I received a declaration of war _

_from the mastermind behind all this…_

_Then days from now, he will attack the dojo with all his forces…_

_This man's name is Yukishio Enishi._

_My brother._

_More accurately, my brother-in-law._

_The brother of…_

…_Himura Tomoe…_

_the wife I killed with my own hands..."_

* * *

**Hitokiri**

**First year of the Genji Era  
****(1864)  
****Kyoto**

A round, paper lantern bobbed slowly up and down as its carrier walked down the darkened street. The young, dark haired man was accompanied by two others; one was much taller than the other two, and his blocky face seemed to be permanently turned down in a grimacing frown. The other, the shortest of the three, was older, his graying hair receding, his chubby face smiling peacefully.

"It's getting late," grunted the tall man. "We should hurry a little." He glanced behind him, peering into the darkness and adjusting the daisho he carried in his obi. "Lately there have been more of those hitokiri—"

"Like that so called 'Hitokiri Battosai'?" interrupted the older man, also resting his hand on his katana. The tall man growled softly.

"Whether he exists or not, we'll crush the rebellion soon." The older man laughed in response to the tall man's grim words.

"Now, now, let's not talk shop when we've got reason to celebrate." He looked up at the young man and smiled warmly. "Kiyosato, you're going to be married next month, aren't you?" The young man, Kiyosato, glanced behind him and a bright smile lit his face, his eyes shining even in the dim, hazy light.

"That's right…" He drummed his fingers on the hilt of his own katana, his eyes growing a little distant with happiness. The older man chuckled.

"Marrying your childhood sweetheart…you lucky dog."

None of them heard the soft footstep in the shadows behind them.

"Thank you…" Kiyosato laughed softly, then his face fell a little. "But…I can't help worrying." He frowned, his forehead creasing. "In these troubled times, why should I—"

"What are you talking about?" exclaimed the old man, interrupting Kiyosato's confused explanation.

None of them saw the narrowed, violet, emotionless eyes watching them from the shadows behind them, slightly obscured by strands of red hair.

"In this world, everyone's trying to find a little happiness," continued the older man. "If anything, if we make a new age in this work of ours, that's the form it should take." He nodded wisely, still smiling.

"You must be Shigekura Jubei." All three of them turned at the sound of the flat, cold voice behind them. Stepping out of the shadows into the pale moonlight was a young man. He wore grey hakama and a blue gi, and his long, oddly red hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. His violet eyes were narrowed, though not in anger, as far as the men could tell. No, it was more like he was focusing all his attention on them with an intensity so strong that, for a moment, their breath hitched in their chests. Then the mysterious young man spoke and the spell was broken, all the air wooshing into their lungs with a soft gasping noise. "Though I bear you no grudge, for the sake of the new era, I must have your lives." Kiyosato's eyes widened as the two men with him stepped forward, forming a kind of living shield between the red-haired man and himself.

"Who are you?" growled the taller man. The young attacker didn't even blink; he didn't seem at all intimidated, even as the two others reached for their katanas.

"Choushuu Ishin Shishi…Himura Battosai…" His voice was expressionless, but it lit a fire of fear in the chests of the three men. Though the young man was certainly small, almost like a woman, and appeared to be light of build, something about his cold confidence was terrifying. Kiyosato dropped his lantern and reached for his own weapon as the tall man lunged forward, snarling viciously.

But before he could even finish drawing his sword, his whole head split open in a spray of blood and he toppled forward to reveal the Battosai standing in a crouch, his blade drawn, the crimson liquid oozing down its silver length. The older man's eyes widened and he nudged Kiyosato back a pace, his heart pounding. He'd never even seen the assassin's blade move.

Then, suddenly, the Battosai was gone, and the older man looked around frantically.

"Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu…" He looked up at the softly uttered, unfamiliar words, and saw the assassin high in the air above him and dropping fast, his sword raised. "Ryu Tsui Sen!" Then the sword was plunged down through the top of the older man's head with a sickening crack and a gush of blood.

"Shigekura-san!" howled Kiyosato, panic making his voice crack. He drew his sword and held it protectively in front of him. "Ishiji-san!" The red-haired assassin spun around to slice at Kiyosato's chest, but the dark-haired man's sword blocked it was a clanging screech. Sweat ran down his face and his eyes were wide as he eyed the bloody blade just inches away from his neck.

"Give up." Kiysato swallowed at the Battosai's cold words, then, with a yell, he pushed his attacker's sword back and jumped away from the wall he'd been backed up against, dropping into a ready crouch.

_I won't die._ He repeated the phrase to himself, trying to steady his breathing. _I don't want to die. Why should I have to die?_ The Battosai's expression remained the same. Then, with a shout, the Battosai swung his sword down almost faster than Kiyosato could follow. But he brought his own sword up in time to block the attack. They exchanged rapid blows, their katanas flashing the moonlight, clanging against each other with defiant voices that echoed down the empty street.

"_In the fifteen years between the coming of the black ships and the Meji Era,  
_"_Honor the Emperor"  
_"_Destroy the Shogunate"  
_"_Expel the barbarian"  
_"_Open the country"_

_Amidst all these ambitions and ideals, those who carried swords were split in two:_

_Tokagawa Shogunate  
__and  
__Ishin Shishi._

_That was…  
__the Bakumatsu…"_

The Battosai lunged forward at the same moment Kiyosato did, and they flew past each other with a flash of their swords. The Battosai's eyes widened as a semi-deep cut split open across his left cheek, blood running freely down his face from the throbbing wound and dripping onto his dark gi. But the strangled cry behind him told him that his sword had found a better mark on his target. Kiyosato collapsed forward onto the cold ground, blood quickly pooling around him. But the Battosai didn't turn to look at his fallen adversary; instead, he touched two fingers to the cut on his face, ignoring the resulting burn of pain, and examined them, shock mirrored in his still-wide eyes at the sight of his own blood on his skin. A gasping grunt caught his attention and he half turned, examining his fallen target out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't…want to…die…" gasped Kiyosato, stretching one bloody hand out to where his sword had fallen. He coughed, a little cloud of blood spraying from between his lips. "I was…finally going…to marry her…" His hand dropped to the ground, but he forced it forward, inching towards his blade. "I would have…loved her…forever…" Tears pooled in his glazed eyes and ran down his cheeks, forming dirty swirls with the blood that had splashed up onto his face from the puddle he was lying in. "Tomo—" The Battosai plunged his sword into Kiyosato's head until it clicked against the road beneath it, then pulled it back out slowly and flicked it to the side, sending a ribbon of blood flying from the blade and onto the ground. He turned at the sound of footsteps and saw two men walking out around the corner.

"We've come to check," said the broader one quickly, as if worried the cold-eyed assassin would turn on him next, but the Battosai just nodded.

"Thank you for examining them…" His voice was soft, but still cold. The two men's eyes widened at the blood on the Battosai's face.

"You're cheek!" the sallow faced man exclaimed, and the Battosai just blinked.

"It's nothing…"

"But he reached your face with a sword…He must have been very good."

"No…" The Battosai slid his sword across the top of its sheath, ignoring the surprised glances from the two men. "His skill itself was nothing. But his will to live…" He slid the sword into its sheath with a soft, metallic click. "…was incredible." He turned his back to the men. "I'll leave the rest to you." When he was a few paces away, he looked back over his shoulder at the fallen young man as the two checkers stepped carefully through his pooled blood, and remembered his victim's last words of love and marriage. "May you find happiness…in your next life…" His voice was a soft murmur, and the sallow faced man looked up curiously from the body of Kiyosato. He raised an eyebrow.

"Did you say something?"

"No." The Battosai looked forward again and kept walking. "It was nothing."

"Will to live, huh…" mused the broad man, scratching the scraggly stubble on his chin, the note with 'Tenchuu' painted on it held loosely in one hand. "I guess a first-class swordsman can tell that just by crossing swords with someone…" He looked up to where the Battosai had been just a moment before, but the young assassin had vanished into the shadows without a trace.

"Yeah," agreed his companion, standing up from his crouch and looking around at the three bloody bodies. "Maybe he could tell that…but he killed them without even blinking. He really is a 'Hitokiri'…"

End

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that was it for chapter one. And yes, at the beginning, I intentionally had Kenshin say '_I_', as opposed to '_this one_.' Because it seemed to me that, in the moment he starts to tell his story, he's letting himself go back a little bit to who he was before. Plus, 'this one' didn't sound right in that moment. I do normally prefer for him to say 'this one', but it didn't really work for that moment, so I apologize if there was any confusion.

Please tell me what you think! (bow) Thank you very much!


	2. Part 2 The Battosai Is Born

**A/N: **Longer chapter this time, shorter note. Disclaimer remains the same. Please enjoy!

* * *

**The Battosai Is Born**

_Tenchuu!_

An arc of silver, slicing easily through flesh, tendon, and muscle.

_Tenchuu!_

A flying head, separated from its body by a sword wielded faster than the eye could follow.

_Tenchuu!_

A spray of crimson against the milky white moon, marring the velvety, starry sky.

_Tenchuu!_

A bloodstained sword in the hands of a red-haired assassin with a slow healing scar on his left cheek.

* * *

He dipped his bloody hands into the small bucket of water, watching the a bit of blood swirl off his skin and mingle with the clear liquid. Then he set to scrubbing the rest off. He rubbed harshly against the joints of his knuckles, trying to get the lines of dark red to wash away. After a moment, not satisfied but determined to come back to it later, he took to scraping the blood out from under his somehow smooth nails. He worked at it carefully, digging the nails of his other hand into the skin around the chosen nail to clean the dried blood from the crevice there. When he'd gotten as much as he could cleaned off, and his nails looked almost normal again, he continued to work the blood out of the joints of his fingers. He lifted them from the murky red water and shook them a little, examining them in the dim light and finding them to be presentable. But still his face was creased in a slight frown.

_The smell of blood…it won't come off._ He hovered his hands over the water for a moment, listening to the sound of footsteps hurrying down the hallway toward the entry way he was standing in, and quickly identifying the chi as a familiar one.

"Oh, Battosai, there you are," came the cheerful voice of skinny man with dark hair pulled back into a short ponytail. He had two little tufts of a mustache on his upper lip, one on either side of his nose. He cupped one hand around the side of his mouth, his eyes bright with excitement. "Come quick. Katsura-sensei is waiting." The Battosai blinked slowly, then dried his hands on a towel and picked up the bucket. He stepped outside and poured the bloody water onto the grass, then stepped back inside, placed the bucket in its proper place, and followed after the man.

He stayed barely a half a step behind the man, scanning with all his senses in every direction, simply out of habit. But no matter how he tried to clear it, the metallic scent of blood lingered in his nose, covering all other scents that were around him. It came as no surprise to him; it had been that way for a good while, and he was slowly getting used to it. If the smell got too much stronger, though, he reasoned, it would truly make him sick. On more than one occasion he had been unable to eat the food that was presented to him, simply because the stench that lingered in his nostrils made his stomach churn so violently that he feared simply opening his mouth would cause him to be sick. And that kind of weakness wasn't acceptable.

"It's been a while since we've been able to meet," murmured the handsome man that stood in the garden, smiling slightly as the Battosai arrived. His black hair was shiny and pulled back into a pony tail, though it was shorter than the Battosai's own. A short lock of hair hung down across his forehead. He was wearing a long, dark gi and striped hamaka, and in one hand he held a cup of tea. "Are you doing well?"

"_Katsura Kogoro._

_The young leader of the Choshuu Ishin Shishi,_

_active as the leader of a substantial providence. _

_He later joined with Saigo Takamori and Satchou Doumei_

_to bring about the fall of the shogunate. _

_He was one of the Ishin Triumvirate."_

The Battosai watched Katsura without blinking, his eyes flat and his mouth a straight line.

"Yes…I'm killing them just fine."

"Hey, hey…" chastised the man next to him in a murmur, looking a little exasperated. If he hadn't known better, he might have thought that the Battosai was joking around. But no, the Battosai wasn't the type to jest. Or even smile much, for that matter. A sad smile crossed Katsura's lips, but he didn't speak. As the silence stretched on, the man standing next to the Battosai grew steadily more and more nervous.

"What is my assignment tonight?" The Battosai's voice was rather deadpan, not at all curious or inquiring.

"Well, it's not so important that I'd call it an 'assignment'…" Katsura trailed off, as if waiting to see how the Battosai would respond. There was another moment of silence, then the Battosai sighed softly.

"If it's not important, please refrain from calling me."

"Hey!" protested the man beside him indignantly, but the Battosai ignored him.

"I've assassinated almost a hundred people these past six months." The words rolled off his tongue easily, but left a sharp, bitter taste in their wake. The Battosai swallowed and ignored it, shoving the discomfort deep inside himself 'till a time came to better address it. "No matter how we hide ourselves, the shogunate is beginning to sense we're here. It isn't a good plan for me to be near the Choshuu Hantei." He paused, looking Katsura in the eyes. "The Bakufu forces are growing stronger day by day." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Especially the Wolves of Mibu…"

"The Shinsengumi…" murmured Katsura, his eyebrows moving closer together as he frowned.

"We have yet to cross swords," the Battosai continued, "But they could be the strongest of the Bakufu's weapons…" The man standing behind Katsura snorted.

"What could that ragtag crowd possibly—" Katsura silenced him with a wave.

"I understand. We'll look out for them."

"Well, about the assignment…" urged the man standing next to the Battosai, looking nervous, as if he didn't want to be the one to call out the young assassin for something that wasn't important. Katsura nodded.

"Actually, during the Gion Festival, there's to be a secret council held at a certain Inn. Toshiwara and Miyabe-san are expected to attend." The Battosai's expression didn't change.

"You need a bodyguard?" The question was simple, and one that Katsura had been expecting the assassin to ask. But he shook his head, a smile on his lips.

"Well, no. I was wondering if you would _join _us."

"That's great!" the man next to the Battosai exclaimed excitedly, grinning widely down at the short young man. "Hey, your name could go down in _history_—"

"I must decline." The man gaped down at the young assassin, the smile frozen on his face. The Battosai ignored him. "It's best if a Hitokiri keeps to the shadows as much as possible." He turned away from the other men and started to walk away. "And I'm not interested in history or honor." He paused in his steps, his head tipping back slightly as if to look at the sky. "If we achieve a new age in which all can live in peace, that's enough." And, without another word, he turned and walked quickly away, his steps completely silent.

"It's no good," sighed the skinny man. "Maybe he's killed too many, but he's been acting strange lately. I thought maybe he'd show some interest…if we dangled the bait right in front of his eyes."

"Bait?" protested Katsura's companion indignantly. "Katsura-sensei has come all this way—"

"Call it what you want," the skinny man said with a shrug.

"Iizuka's right," Katsura said with a sigh, nodding slightly to the man that had accompanied the Battosai. "But I saw one thing here. He may act strangely, but his heart hasn't changed since I met him a year ago…"

* * *

There was a fairly large group of men, all gathered around one point, which happened to be two thick, wooden polls, wrapped in coils of rope, that were embedded in the ground. Two men stepped forward, both with staffs, and demonstrated their strength and speed by striking the part wrapped in rope with loud shouts. The crowd roared, either cheering them on or complaining that they hadn't gotten their turn yet.

High on the hill over looking the gathering were two men, standing by a gnarled tree. One, slightly taller than his companion, had one eyebrow raised, while the other had a grin on his face.

"I came all the way from Kyoto because you said you had something to show me," intoned the taller man, watching the big, burly men striking the wooden practice polls. "What is this, Shinsaku?" Shinsaku snickered and grinned even wider.

"This is the strength of the new era, Katsura," he replied easily. His high arching eyebrows went up nearly to his hairline as his eyes went wide, his grin still in place. "The Kiheitai!"

"_Takasugi Shinsaku._

_Essentially the second-in-command in Choshuu._

_A battle-loving man from the most active of the Chushuu factions,_

_he succeeded in unifying the providence in forming_

_the Kiheitai to topple the Bakufu."_

Shinsaku chewed on the toothpick between teeth and ran a hand through his short, loose black hair, then waved one hand proudly over the group of men.

"Birth or status means nothing! Anyone can join my Kiheitai if they have the ambition and the strength."

"Certainly, after three hundred years of peace, they could be better than the soft samurai," mused Katsura. "But will this really work?" The skepticism was obvious in his voice. Then he raised his eyebrows as a new 'challenger' stepped forward to the practice poles. "Look. Even a _child_." The boy had a sword, still sheathed, in one hand, and his red hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. His purple eyes were clear and confident, and innocently pure. Many of the men laughed.

"Look, the kid brought his own sword," chortled a round-jawed man as he tapped his own sword against his shoulder. "Give it a try, kid."

"I'll give you a ryo if you cut it in half," snickered a wiry, balding man. The boy gave him an odd, curious look, then settled himself into a stance that Katsura didn't recognize as he faced the thick pole. A hushed silence fell over the crowd of people as they turned to watch the boy. He stood, motionless, for a long moment, then his eyes narrowed and his pulled the sword from its sheath almost faster than Katsura could follow. What looked almost like wavering, silver afterimage shimmered where the sword had been swung, then the top half of the pole went flying through the air, its severed ropes flapping behind it. Then, in a brutal motion, the boy completed the rotation he'd started and slammed the sheath itself into severed top half of the pole, sending it crashing into the ground, large splinters of wood flying everywhere. There were open gasps and exclamations of surprise from the surrounding men, their eyes wide. Katsura saw Shinsaku's eyes widen as well, and knew his face must hold a similar expression.

"Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu…Sou Ryu Sen." Only those closest to the boy could hear his whispered words.

"Shinsaku…" Katsura murmured as he watched the boy turn and ask, politely, for his ryo. "I'm taking this boy…to Kyoto."

"So that was the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu…" sighed Katsura, setting down his small sake cup and looking across from him at the boy. "I've heard of it, but I didn't know it truly existed…" The boy sipped his tea quietly, just watching Katsura with those clear, pure eyes, not saying anything. "But let me ask you something." Katsura took a deep breath. "Have you ever _killed_ a man with this Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu?" The boy paused, the cup halfway to his lips.

"No." Katsura swallowed, taking another deep breath.

"But…do you think you could?" The boy's violet eyes widened and he stared down into his tea for a moment. Then the confidence blossomed again in his eyes and he gently set his cup down. He kept his gaze trained on it, though, for another half a moment, before he looked up at Katsura.

"If with my own dirty sword and the lives I take, I could pave the way for a new era in which all can live in peace…" He bowed his head respectfully, and rose to his feet.

"I see," Katsura replied softly. "We're leaving for Kyoto first thing in the morning. Take a room upstairs and rest." The boy nodded, bowed at the waist, then turned and left the room, his feet barely making a whisper against the tatami mats. Shinsaku, who had been eyeing the two of them while playing his stringed instrument softly, raise an eyebrow, almost defiantly. Katsura met his gaze.

"Shinsaku…you can't keep the boy here."

"If you need a Hitokiri that badly," Shinsaku snorted, "you should do it yourself. When you were in Edo, you were good enough to work your way up to the top of the Shinto Munen Ryu's training hall. Except for Sakamoto Ryouma of the Hokushin Ittou Ryu, you never lost."

"If I_ could_, I _would_," sighed Katsura, standing up and opening the sliding door. "But I am the head of the Choushuu Ishin Shishi now."

"Yeah," agreed Shinsaku, his voice almost hard. "That's right." Katsura wondered briefly if he had heard traces of something close to disdain laced through the other man's voice, but he quickly dismissed it. "You're the Choushuu head at the Bakumatsu festival." He arranged his fingers across the neck of his instrument. "No one will carry a leader that's covered in blood." He slowly, carefully began strumming at the strings, and a haunting melody carried itself cautiously around the room. "So you're going to ruin that boy's life…just so you can stay clean." He looked back up at Katsura, his gaze cold. "If it means being driven into the jaws of death, or leaving a name that will shame generations to come…you can _never_ draw your sword again."

"Don't think I haven't thought of that." Katsura's voice was grim. "Today marks the death of _swordsman_ Katsura Kogoro."

* * *

"That was just about a year ago," Katsura said softly, sipping his tea and looking around the garden that the Battosai had left him in. "Maybe it's because he seemed so much younger then…that he's changed now. But his _heart_ hasn't changed at all."

"That's good to hear," replied his companion. Iizuka didn't respond at all, just looked distantly down the stone path the Battosai had departed along. Katsura narrowed his eyes a little, guilt worming its way into his chest.

_It's because he hasn't changed that he's beginning to feel…the terrible deterioration of being a Hitokiri…_

_

* * *

_

Night had fallen, and the Battosai sat alone at a table in a neighborhood bar, doing his best to drink the sake he had ordered. Trying not to let the disgust show on his face, he set the cup down and listened to the dull buzz forming in the back of his head.

_ It tastes bad…_He sighed, trying to swallow the unusual, coppery taste off his tongue, but it refused to leave. _These days, no matter what I drink, all I taste is blood. I really started drinking about half a year ago…About the time I got the scar on my cheek…_ He stared down at his empty cup. _I never liked the taste…but lately all I can taste is _blood_…_ An image of his sensei, drinking sake straight from the jug, flashed in his mind's eye. _Shishou taught me the sword, but I learned to drink on my own._ He let his mind wander, keeping one ear and one eye open to the bar around him, just in case.

The drinking had started shortly after he'd slain the young man, Kiyosato, and his dying words plagued his mind. To try and drown out the unusually high feeling of guilt, he'd taken to retreating to the bar for sake.

But then, for some reason, it had started tasting like blood. And, as time went on, so did the other drinks.

He remembered attempting to drink the tea that he had been served just the other week, but as soon as the normally bitter liquid slid across his tongue, he had gagged and nearly spit it back up, stopping himself only by clamping one hand firmly over his mouth. Instead of tasting as tea was supposed to, it tasted as though he had just tried to swallow watery blood. It was coppery and disgusting, and it had lingered in his mouth long after he had set the tea aside. To try and remove the taste that wouldn't leave on its own, he had trying swallowing some cool water, but it only made the sensation that much worse. Irritated, and a little disturbed by the reoccurring taste, he had holed himself up, once again, in his room, and refused to see anyone until his new mission had arrived.

A sudden decrease in drunken chatter brought him out of his memories and he focused his attention completely on those around him. Judging from the lustful whispers and muffled whistles, a woman had walked in. He felt for her chi, and found it almost faint; it was soft and hard to detect. He stiffened slightly, almost reaching for his katana when he heard her sit down in the booth just behind him.

"Welcome. What can I get for you?" asked the owner politely, approaching the table. The Battosai turned slightly to eye the young woman. She had unusually pale skin, and long, silky black hair that hung about as far down her back as the Battosai's did his. When she turned to face the owner, he saw that her hair framed her face in a delicate, yet beautiful way, and her gentle black eyes betrayed almost no emotion.

"I'd like a cup of chilled sake. Please."

End

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I'm sorry it took me so long to get this up. It's been a little while since school got out, and frankly, I've been lazing around, not doing much of anything. (sigh) So I got myself to write this out, and I plan on continuing it as much as I can. I've also got a couple of other tasks I have to accomplish this summer, so I dunno how fast I'll get this written.

I would like to extend my thanks, first to Shiori12 for being the first to favorite this story, and then to Stiehl for being the first to review it. Thank you, you two, for your support. (smile)

Anyway! Please tell me what you think! (bow) Thank you!


	3. Part 3 A Man& A Woman In A Rain Of Blood

**A/N:** Enter Tomoe. Disclaimer remains the same. Please enjoy!

* * *

**A Man And A Woman In A Rain Of Blood**

The Battosai watched the young woman out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly, the scent of white plums teased at his nose and his eyes widened. It was the first time in so long that he'd smelled something other than blood. It sent him reeling slightly until he forced himself to focus. He had no reason to be distracted by something as simple as perfumed scent. He narrowed his eyes slightly, focusing again on the girl. She delicately lifted the cup of sake off the table and to her lips, drinking it quickly with the ease of long practice. When she finished, she sighed softly. The ruddy, drunken faces of the other men in the bar had turned to leering smirks, and two men made their way to her table.

"Hey, woman!" barked the older of the two. The second one slammed his bottle down onto the table.

"Have a drink with us," he drawled. The woman looked up at them, blinked slowly, then looked back down at her empty cup, clearly uninterested.

"We're Aizu's Ishin Shishi!" roared the first man, his face turning even redder in his rage. "We risk our lives day and night for you common people!" The second man nodded, looking just as furious.

"Drinking with us is the least you could do!" he bellowed. Still the woman did not look up.

"Aizu's on the Bakufu's side, idiots," laughed one of the other customers, and soon everyone else joined in the laughter.

"What did you say?" snarled the first man, spinning around and resting his hand on the hilt of the katana at his side. The entire bar fell silent and everyone looked anywhere but at the burly man with his katana. He snorted. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Stay out of this."

"That was a close call for somebody," snickered his companion.

"It certainly was." The dangerous, icy cold voice from behind them made the two men freeze. "If you had drawn that sword, you would have been fighting _me_." Swallowing what was obviously fear, the burly man spun back around and started to draw his sword, when it was stopped by the hand of the smaller, younger, red-haired man behind him.

"Let me give you some advice," the Battosai said in a deadly soft voice, his emotionless eyes holding the man paralyzed. "The violence is only going to get worse. Kyoto is no place for _hypocrites_." He paused. "If you value your lives, you should run back to the countryside." The other customers, not subjected to the Battosai's fearsome glare, took courage from his words.

"Yeah!"

"Get out!"

"Go home, you frauds!" The two men, bombarded from all sides by accusations and orders, and restrained from fighting by the presence of the red-haired assassin, looked around frantically before hurrying out the door, cursing. Once they were gone, the Battosai tossed the required amount of money for his sake onto the table, and strode towards the door, the scent of plums still lingering inside his nostrils.

"Sorry about all that," was all he said as he pulled the door open and stepped outside.

"Ah…thank you," the owner of the bar replied, but then the door quickly shut behind the young man, and all other words were meaningless.

"He's good, that kid," chuckled one man, eyeing the door that the Battosai had just stepped out of. "Like…like a warrior for peace." His drinking buddies all laughed in amusement, but the woman who had sat just behind him blinked slowly, staring at the door. What the silent woman was thinking was anyone's guess.

* * *

The Battosai walked silently down the street, instinctively keeping to the shadows next to buildings. He wasn't trying particularly hard to keep himself completely hidden, but just so much so that he would avoid detection unless someone was looking for him. His head was still spinning from the woman's scent, but there were more pressing things to think about.

_The taste of blood is getting stronger…_ He felt his stomach churning discontentedly, as if it were veiling a threat to forcefully remove all he'd had to drink, whether he wanted to or not. He swallowed, his mouth feeling dry, the tang of blood-taste heavy on his tongue. He half-curled his lip in disgust, his disturbed annoyance only piling on top of the flickering anger in his chest. _Guys like that wouldn't have gotten to me before…_ He shook his head, his red bangs swaying in front of his eyes. He had so easily lashed out at those men, and he felt relieved that he hadn't actually drawn his sword and done any damage. It was getting to the point where little things would drive him into the fires of anger, and it would take a longer time than usual for him to calm down.

He stopped walking and looked up at the starry skies overhead. He scanned their great expanse until his eyes settled on one particular cluster that was very familiar to him. _Shishou…_ How many times had he spent looking up at the stars, back when he was younger? How many times had he listened to his master's wise words while gazing on the glittering sky? Something akin to regretful longing drifted into his violet eyes.

"In spring, cherry blossoms by night," his master had said once. "In summer, the stars. In autumn, the full moon. In winter, the snow. These are always enough to make sake delicious." He turned to glance at the boy, then looked back up at the stars, holding a cup of sake in his hand. "If it tastes bad, that's proof that there's something sick inside you."

The Battosai closed his eyes and sighed. _Sick…_ He reopened his eyes and kept walking down the empty street. _Maybe that's true. But saving people from the suffering of the ages is the foundation of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. _He thought back to the day he'd left his master to go on his own journey, and the heated, bitter argument that had resulted. _And all the more now…when we fought a year ago, why did he try to keep me from leaving…?_

_

* * *

_

"Alright, here he comes. This street is _perfect_." The two men that the Battosai had previously chased out of the bar were crouched behind a corner, watching the red-haired young man making his way slowly down the street, occasionally illuminated by streaks of moonlight in the otherwise concealing shadows. The older, burly man had his sword half-drawn, a drunken scowl on his face. His companion had a hand on his shoulder.

"Are…are you really gonna kill him?" His voice was shaking, and he was so nervous there were beads of sweat on his face.

"Hell _yeah_ I am," growled the bigger man. "You think I'm gonna let this go?"

"But he's a killer!" protested the other man. He'd seen the look in the younger man's eyes when he'd stopped them.

"Idiot!" spat the first man, yanking his sword free of its sheath. "Everyone's a killer in Kyoto these days!"

"You're right." Both men froze at the gravely voice behind them, and turned to find a man dressed in all black standing there. He wore a black mask covering half his face, and the twin swords in his hands were connected by a long chain. He stared down at the men with cold, flat eyes. "You're in the way. Die!"

The Battosai looked up at the sound of a harsh, ragged scream from farther ahead, and the smaller of the two men he'd forced out of the bar came running towards him, begging and pleading for help. Suddenly, in the middle of one of his frantic cries, a sword plunged through the back of his head and exploded out of his mouth in a fountain of red. The man toppled without another sound, and the sword was yanked back out by means of a chain, until it was securely in the black-clad man's hand. The Battosai stood motionless, examining the muscled man in front of him. There was a long moment of silence before the mysterious man spoke, his words rough and harsh in his throat.

"Hitokiri Battosai, right?" The Battosai didn't blink.

"What do you want?" he asked calmly.

"You may play innocent, but I know you," growled the man, his hands tightening on his swords. "I've been waiting here for you." Then he flicked his wrist, sending one of his swords straight for the Battosai's throat. "I will have your life!"

_Shogunate spy…_ the Battosai thought with distain as he quickly drew his sword and deflected the attack; he paid little attention to the offending sword as it landed point down in the ground and stuck there. The man lunged forward, swinging another chain around almost wildly. _Not a real samurai…like me…_ Then he suddenly found the chain was not being flailed in a random pattern, but rather it was being wrapped around his chest and upper arms, binding them to his sides as his attacker leapt to the roof, holding the Battosai tightly in place. _Someone who will never go down in history…a shadow assassin!_

"Prepare yourself!" shouted the man, leaping down off the roof. The Battosai grabbed the part of the chain closest to the sword that was stuck in the ground, and yanked on it, jerking it free and grabbing it backhandedly, reaching it over his head with his left arm, the one that could move the farthest. Coming down too quickly to stop himself, the assassin's eyes widened for a split second before he fell onto the blade, Battosai's battle shout echoing in his ears. It ripped him open from his shoulder down to his hip, the spray of his blood raining down around the Battosai, splattering onto his face and clothes. As the man's body hit the ground with an awful thud, the scent of white plum blossoms reached the Battosai and his eyes widened. He froze, sensing the familiar chi he feared he would find.

_The girl from the bar_. His mind felt frozen, unsure. _She saw…I can't let anyone know of the Battosai's existence…!_ He clenched his hand around the hilt of his sword, preparing to turn around and silence the woman, despite the hesitation that was tugging at his heart, screaming at him to stop, pleading that the woman was innocent, that she hadn't been involved, that he should just leave her and go…He narrowed his eyes, his sword hand shaking with the force of his indecision.

"I followed you because I wanted to say thank you." The woman's voice was calm and controlled, and the Battosai's eyes widened. Despite having seen what he'd just done, she was speaking to him, _thanking_ him… "They always sat that at tragic scenes, 'a rain of blood falls'…" The Battosai turned slowly to look at her, and saw her pale face was streaked with blood. The red stuff lined her hair and dappled her pretty kimono in large splotches. "But you really made it…_rain blood_…" In that instant, the scent of blood mingled with the sweet smell of her perfume and the undertones of the sake she'd been drinking. It so very nearly overwhelmed the Battosai that he almost staggered, his head spinning. The dead assassin's bloody sword dropped from the Battosai's hand with a clatter against the ground as he stared at the pretty, blood-stained woman before him.

"_Kenshin and Tomoe…_

_In that instant, the wheels of our destinies began to turn._

_Round and round…"_

End

* * *

**A/N:** I have a hard time writing Tomoe, she's a very unfamiliar character type for me, so I apologize if there are any inconsistencies. Hopefully it'll get easier to write her as I get more practice.

I would like to thank Inner Yamata No Orochi for adding this story to their favorites. (smile)

Please tell me what you think! (bow) Thank you!


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